After the Hunger Games: Gale's Story
by CRYA0TIC
Summary: It has been a year since Katniss and Peeta had been slain in the rebellion. Now the Hunger Games are back with a new rule: Everyone is forced to enter their name! Gale is picked and he has to side with dangerous, mysterious people. Let's get the games on! WARNING: GalexOC
1. Chapter 1

**AFTER THE HUNGER GAMES- GALE'S STORY** _PART ONE_

**Author's note: Hi! So this is my first story attempt, and this idea has been floating round my head for some time now, so I've decided to write it down. There are also copies of this story on deviantART and Wattpad, which are also mine. (COPYRIGHTED.)No flaming, but constructive criticism is appreciated. If you don't like the idea then fine, but I personally think Gale should get more screentime/pagetime. Enjoy!

It has been a year since Katniss and Peeta have died during the rebellion. Now the Hunger Games are back, with a new rule. Everybody is forced to enter their name, regardless of their age. When Gale is picked as a tribute, he is sure that he is being sent to his death like his best friend before him, but what he finds is shocking, and he is forced to team up with mysterious, dangerous people. Will a rebellion rise again?

(c) Gale, Rory, Vick and Posy Hawethorne, Katniss and Primrose Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Effie Trinket, President Snow and Haymitch Abernathy belong to Suzanne Collins. (c) Only Evangeline Sporker belongs to me so far, but I promise I have more characters in my iventory! :)

It had been a full year since Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark had been slain by the Capitol's soldiers during the rebellion. I miss my best friend Katniss a lot, but life had gone back to normal: The poor were starving and the rich were living comfortably in the Capitol. All was as quiet, for no one now seemed at all eager to stand up to President Snow's Peacekeepers. As a punishment for the rebellion all the people had to have their names entered for the Hunger Games at least once, regardless of what their age was. (Of course if they were under 5 years old it didn't count.) And so I found myself weaving in and out of the crowd, siblings in tow nearer to the stage where (a very glum-looking) Effie Trinket stood. Her clammy hand was tightly gripping a microphone that was studded with pink rhinestones. Effie wasn't a bad person, just…rather odd. I knew that she was distraught when Snow had informed her that the girl with the Mockingjay pin, the ferocious hunter, had been slain. Haymitch was drinking (as per usual) and back in charge of training the 'lucky two kids' who were to take part in the hunger games. I paused in mid-thought when I suddenly felt a tugging at my belt.

"Primrose?" Katniss' little sister was edging closer to me, nervous and shaken. Her older sister's death had really knocked her down a few pins. She had refused to eat for several days and had lost a fair bit of weight.

"Gale…I'm scared. I'm scared I might get chosen. It was my fault. If my name hadn't come up, Katniss would have never gone…and she wouldn't be d-dead!" She was sniffling now. "But if I do, you have to promise me you won't try to take my place… okay?" Jesus…Gale, don't look into those big eyes…

"I guess… but it wasn't your fault you were picked. And at least we made a few dents in Snow's ego," I said uneasily, hoisting my youngest sister onto my shoulder. I knew that it wasn't going to be her. It was most likely me: my name had been entered 35 times this year, because my mom and I couldn't feed the family on the measly portions we got.

"Testing… Testing… Are we all here? Good," Effie Trinket was tapping her mike impatiently and ruffling her over-sized hairpiece. "As another year roars by, we are back at the amazing HUNGER GAMES! I, Effie Trinket, will be drawing the names of District 12's lucky two!"

Silence rang out through the square, as everybody from District 12 held their breaths simultaneously. She reached her hand into the large glass bowl and took out two pieces of crisp, cream-coloured paper.

"And this year's male tribute is… Gale Hawthorn!" A choked sound came out from the back of my throat. I knew there were chances, but they were pretty slim. I put my sister down and made my way to the front. Everyone's eyes were on me. My mother gasped and reached for my arm, but the Peacekeepers held her back. Prim had tears running down her face, and a pang of guilt struck me. She was going to lose yet another part of her life.  
>This was how I was going to die. Slain for the rich peoples' amusement. I never even got to say goodbye to Katniss, with her having died at the hands of the snobs who were going to be laughing as I got shot down by arrows or whatever. I had loved her from day one. She was brave, loyal, and an amazing hunter. Clean shots through the eye, as I recall. Till the moment I'm slain, I will never love anyone as much as I did Katniss. Catnip…I miss ya.<p>

Effie beamed when I finally got onto the stage. "And our female tribute is… Evangeline Sporker! Let's get into the spirit of the Games!"  
>The crowd blinked and began murmuring to each other. If Evangeline Sporker was a tribute, then District 12 was surely doomed. Eva was the Seam's lunatic. Let's just say that she's more likely to be trying to assassinate me before the Games starts, regardless of who I am. (Or so the rumours imply.) I awaited her arrival, and gazed out towards the crowd. A small, blonde haired girl shuffled forwards. The golden strands of her hair clung together in clumps and her face was grubby and blood-streaked from the beatings she got from the civilians she had tried to approach. Evangeline couldn't be any older than Prim, and yet despite their hair and age, they couldn't be any more different.<p>

As Eva made her way to the stage, I noticed that she was muttering and twitching slightly.

"The Games…Are just a trick…The walls…They need BLOOD…"

I shivered. The cheese had slipped off her cracker.

Effie's fake smile faded, and she stepped back slightly. "…And these are our tributes! Let us give them a nice round of applause!"

The hours flew by and I found myself sitting in a train car identical to the one Katniss sat in exactly two years ago. All was the same, except it was me who is going to be sent to my death. People flitted in and out to say goodbye, or to wish me luck. They all remembered me as 'Katniss Everdeen's little friend'. I was also known as 'The kid who brings the illegal wild game', and 'the boy who took that whipping and had to be saved by Katniss Everdeen'. I never really made a name for myself, and the only people who knew me at all were Catnip's family and mine.

The last ones to come in were my mother and my siblings, Rory, Vick and Posy. Mom said nothing and just shook her head, but my brothers rushed at me in a flurry of arms and legs. I whispered for them to look after each other as best they could, and I got up and gently pried Posy from my mom's arms. I cuddled her and gave her a small kiss on the head.

"Heh… Look after those two meatheads and mom would ya, Pose? I bet you'll be just as brave as Catnip one day." Posey gurgled a reply, a sad look in her eye.

My mother sighed and finally beckoned for all of us to come in for the last ever-family gathering. She pulled us close and tears slid down her cheeks. After a few moments, she took something out of her pocket; it was a black piece of (not too thick, not too thin) rope with what looked like an animal tooth dangling from it.

"This was your grandfather's," mom said quietly, slipping the necklace round my neck. "It's a shark tooth. A long time ago, there was an island not far from Panem called Hawaii. The people there believed that shark's teeth could protect one from poison. My great-great-great grandfather lived in Hawaii, and he devised a potion and hid it in this tooth. Use it when the time is right." I wanted to question her: To ask how to use it and when, but the Peacekeepers instead stormed in and told her her time was up. I watched as my own mother was dragged, flailing and screaming out of the car, my siblings in tow.  
>I muttered a melancholic farewell as the train set off, heading away from District twelve and towards the Capitol.<p>

PART TWO, COMING SOON.


	2. Chapter 2

It was my first night eating dinner with my trainer, Haymitch Abernathy, and Evangeline Sporker, my fellow tribute. I was wearing a khaki shirt and pair of combat pants, both which I found in my room. Quietly slipping through the double doors leading to the dining room, I stepped foot onto a lavish red carpet and gawped at the gold interior. It was literally _shining_. At the table, Haymitch and sat, for once somber, drumming his fingers on the ornate plate. I sat down next to him, and looked at the meal before us. It was astounding. I tucked in happily. Katniss would've insulted Haymitch and hesitated with the food, had she been here. I swallowed and glanced at my plate. _Katniss…_

My mentor finally broke the silence.

"Right. So first off, Gale, I need to know what you're good at and what your weaknesses are. Obviously some of them are yet to be discovered, but it's useful to have an idea of what I'm going to be working with here. By the way- where's Evangeline?"

I shrugged, and bit into the cheese-stuffed turkey in front of me.

Haymitch rolled his eyes, gestured towards one of the mute servants near us, and told her to go fetch Evangeline. I glanced up. The servant was pretty. Not as much as Katniss, of course, but still well kempt and good-looking. The girl nodded her brown head and hurried off.

Haymitch turned to me again, and took another swig of beer from the canister round his waist. Great.

"So… You have any talents? Any particular gifts I should know 'bout?"

I dabbed the corner of my mouth with a napkin before answering: "I'm pretty handy with a bow and arrow. Prefer a knife for close-up silent killing though."

Haymitch nodded, seemingly pleased with what his tribute was going to be murdering with.

"We can't do either of them."

My heart sank like a stone.

"Why not? They're the only things I can do! We're doomed otherwise!"

Haymitch opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by a loud bang of the door. The mousy haired girl we saw earlier was standing in the doorway, motioning frantically, her eyes wide in alarm. We got up and sprinted after her, my head spinning like crazy. What had happened? Had someone taken Eva? District Twelve would be placed at a larger disadvantage still, had one of its tributes went missing.

We arrived at a hand-carved wooden door, identical to mine. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but there was an uncomfortable silence in the air. Haymitch yanked the door open, and retched.

I peered from behind him and every hair on my body prickled.

Evangeline Sporker lay sprawled across the carpet, which was now wet with her blood. Her wrists were slit and blood seeped from the wounds, reluctant to stop.

On the cream coloured wall behind her, and scarlet message dripped in messy handwriting.

'_The walls need BLOOD.'_

Several mugs of hot chocolate later, Haymitch and I were sitting at the table, solemn silence ringing in our ears. The quietness grew unbearable, and my mentor broke it with a grunt.

"I've come to a conclusion. There's no use fighting a losing battle. You can't make it on your own in the Games without a partner."

"So we're forfeiting?" I was shocked. The idea was dishonourable, and our people would be shamed.

Haymitch looked offended and growled: "I never said that, and you should know better than to accuse me of doing something so degrading. Besides, there is no forfeiting in the Games."

I slumped.

"But," He said, grinning slyly as if an amazing idea had struck him. (And it probably had.) "I have a plan. You might not like it, and if you're anything like Katniss, you won't. You know what- or rather- _who_ Careers are, am I right?"

"Yes…"

"Well, Gale Hawthorne, if you're gonna survive, you're going to have to suck it up to them and _be_ a Career."


	3. Chapter 3

Nights passed and I finally found myself, after travelling through the different Districts, at the marvelous Capitol itself. The gaudy towers rose up, piercing the clouds and flashing their screens. How fake. The train rounded a corner smoothly, and screeched to a stop. I clutched my shark's tooth necklace instinctively, and glanced out the window where crowds gathered, the paparazzi holding cameras big enough to bash someone's head in and the citizens grouped together, curious. Peacekeepers formed a heavily fortified line around the throng of people- not that they posed as a threat. They looked like a swarm of bees. The citizens stood still, tame as sheep. The paparazzi didn't move much either. Their cameras were poised, but no fingers pressed any buttons. Their lenses glared at me through the thick glass, and my stomach sank. I was the underdog. I was the pitied one; and I didn't like being pitied. Well, at least if I died I would join Katniss in heaven.

A curt knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Gale. It's time," Haymitch spoke solemnly.

This was it. I was being sent to my death.

I closed my eyes and gave myself five brief seconds of cowardice. 1… Katniss had been slain at the hands of Snow. 2… My hands are shaking, as I hold her Mockingjay pin at the funeral. 3… I see Rory, Vick, Mum and little Posy all seeing me off at the train station. 4… I could die. I could never see them again. 5… I am going to burn the Capitol to ashes. I will. If I survive, that is.

When I opened my eyes, Haymitch was still standing at the door with a hard expression on his face. I could tell that he somehow understood what I was thinking. Though whether he had been through it himself or he had experienced it with another tribute, I couldn't tell.

"Now is not the time for defiance, Gale," he said, his stare piercing my throat. "District Twelve is still on thin ice after what happened with Katniss and Peeta."

I choked, hearing her name come out of his mouth.

"We can't afford anything too risky. I know you're angry; I am too, but we both have to calm ourselves. President Snow already is aware of the damage the revolution did last time. He's going to be wary of our District."

I hated it when the drunken man was right.

I wasn't wrong when I said that the Peacekeepers swarmed around the crowd. There wasn't a better word. Their radios buzzed electronically and they stood with their arms out, as if to hold back the people. Joke joke, clap clap clap, sit down. Haymitch hurried through, ignoring the flashes and the microphones that were shoved in his face. I followed him, trying to tune out of the horrible, nosy questions the media threw in my way.

"Do you feel daunted in any way regarding your fellow tribute's sudden death?"

"You _do_ realize that without your teammate, you stand less of a chance at winning?"

"How did Miss Sporker die? We heard she knocked her head against the table and suffered blood-loss, but we all know there's more to the story!"

I shuddered as an involuntary chill swept through my body. Staring hard at the shiny stone tiles underneath my feet, I mentally shoved the questions away and focused on the steps I took. I gave all my attention, and it actually felt, well, _good_ to not have to care. To (almost) not have to think. I focused hard on the tiles. So much, in fact, that I almost bumped into Haymitch when he suddenly stopped.

When I glanced up, I knew why.

A tall, solid structure of cream and gold stood before us, and the gleam off the shiny metal made the flashing lights of the other buildings look, well, _dull_ in comparison. The door opened to reveal several Peacekeepers in diamond formation, and amongst them was Effie Trinket, squealing in defiance.

"Let me through, you buffoons! You are here to _watch_ me, not to make a mockery of the Capitol by barring me in!"

Several of the Peacekeepers looked somewhat flustered as they parted to let the maniacal woman through.

Since the second rebellion, each district's Capitol representative (in our case, Effie), were not allowed to ride the same train as the tributes back to the Capitol, for the higher-ups feared conspiracy. Haymitch fell back alongside me and whispered:

"Remember what we discussed. Act high and mighty. District 1 and 2's tributes might buy it, but you have to prove to the Gamemakers that you are a career, that you are _different_ from-"

Haymitch was cut off by a Peacekeeper, but I didn't need to hear what he was about to say.

Different from the other two. From Peeta… And from Katniss. I nodded, not trusting myself to answer.

"Ahh…. Gale. It _is_ Gale, yes?" Effie Trinket beamed, digging under her sparkly pink nail for dirt or whatever it is Capitol people find under their fashion pieces. "It is marvelous that you are here, safe and sound! Now, the officials told me we aren't allowed a replacement for little Angelica, but…"

"Evangeline," I corrected, giving her a pointed look. She couldn't even remember our names! Forget about being concerned for our welfare!

Effie paled and stuttered under my frown.

"Yes… Yes… Quite right. How silly of me to forget… Shall we go in now? You need to meet your stylists and start getting fitted for your parade outfit by the end of tomorrow. Good lord, we all know you're going to need those sponsors! I hope all that fine food on the train didn't fatten you up too much… We can't have an overweight Tribute, now can we?" She was babbling hysterically at this point, and I knew that my cold attitude had unnerved her. After all, she _did_ see me walk by without saying anything when she was being locked up in District 13. I'm surprised she didn't throw a Capitol fit when she was released and held it against me. Of course, the District and its habitants were executed for the whole of Panem to see shortly after they were dispersed.

Effie led us inside and I blanched. I was in the enemy's territory at last. Groping my necklace yet again, I played with it in an attempt to distract myself from the Glossy walls and sparkly floors. Was this where I was _staying_?

Jabbing a button on the elevator delicately, and its doors popped open with a light _pling._ Haymitch, probably knowing out of experience, pressed the glowing silver square for the 12th floor. When the doors hissed open, the metallic décor and the bright colours caught me completely by surprise, but made me (amazingly) angry as well. If the Capitol people were living it up like this, why couldn't they spare a few pennies and scraps for us living in District 12? I resisted the sudden urge to knock over a priceless glass vase molded in the shape of a dragon.

Effie clacked her nails against the smooth surface of the marble countertop at the bar, and grinned proudly. She couldn't sense my uneasiness.

Haymitch cleared his throat and poured himself a glass of wine (1998, great year) and slurred: "Well, I guess we should all get rested up. Gale, you have skill training tomorrow, and you need to play out what we…. Discussed. Try not to get beaten to death before the actual Games, alright?" He tipped back his glass and poured another one.

Turning around without saying anything and going into one of the bedrooms, I slammed the door and locked myself out of the cruel world around me.

The next few hours was a flurry of arms, legs, scissors and black coloured fabric. My stylist, Fawna, and her team tugged at my hair and experimented on my face. When I questioned her she simply answered:

"Beauty is pain, my dear!"

Beauty is pain my _ass_. In the end Fawna had decked me out in 'armour' that seemed like it was pieced together with slivers of shiny black coal, black leather boots and gave me a lighted torch to hold in my hand. I admit, it fit me like a glove and looked pretty awesome. My hair was slicked back, in the typical Capitol men's fashion, and before I knew it I had been manhandled onto a gold and bronze chariot pulled by two jet-black Arabic horses. I looked around me at the tributes and mentors from the other districts. I had to admit, some of the outfits were a lot worse than mine.

The District 1s were sporting peacock feathers, and the male tribute was carrying a solid gold staff. Haymitch caught me looking at them and stepped closer to me, whispering into my ear.

"That's Jude and Gloss from the first district," he said, eyeing the blonde pair. They looked so much alike it was scary. Snobbish pixie noses, and almond shaped cornflower blue eyes. "If you hit off with them then you might actually have a chance of getting to the big fish: District two."

I looked at the second district's chariot. The male tribute was there, adjusting the belt on his waist. He wore black ceramic armour there was no hair on his head. Instead, it was covered in menacing black tattoos. The other tribute was absent, probably gone to the toilet. After all, who knows how long we'll have to stay in these outfits? Careers are humans too... Or so I hoped.

A fanfare of trumpets sounded and the crowd outside clapped. The parade had entered its first stages.

President Snow rattled on about honour and how sacred the games were, but none of the tributes were actually listening. We were much too busy going through our crowd- pleasing facial expressions and rehearsing our sponsor attracting stories in our heads. Well, at least I was. Haymitch talked me through my 'cues' for a few minutes, and when I finally got them I sat down and had a silent breather. A peal of laughter sounds from the direction of District Eight: The tributes were staring down an advancing girl with white armour identical to the one the district 2 tribute was wearing. This must be his partner.

The Eights were obviously trying to put her off, but the girl walked straight-ahead, chin raised. Dozens of words came to mind when I tried to describe her. Lanky? No. Thin? Not particularly. Her facial features looked slightly Asian, and her nose was long and pointed. Her long dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and cascaded down to her waist. Other than that she looked pretty normal. The fade-into-the-background-type.

Yes, the girl in the white armour was… Well, _average._ She wasn't tall, short, fat, or skinny. In fact, she was just mundane, as far as weapon-wielding psychopaths went. The armour flattered her curves, making her look like an hourglass. An ideal woman's body, my mother would say. Not like Katniss, who was straight as a stick.

Woah.

Wait.

How dare I say that about my one true love? The only girl I could ever fall head-over-heels for? The Hunger Games must really be freaking me out.

Another loud blast from the trumpets rang through the coliseum and the large crowd outside roared. And our chariots began to move.


End file.
